


Nightingale

by trainmaker



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Formalwear, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Music, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, background techza i guess, ranboo and tubbo never met
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 21:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30145563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainmaker/pseuds/trainmaker
Summary: Ranboo, a sell-sword, meets Tubbo, a pianist. They both feel out of place among their dearest friends and discuss how hard it is to finish fighting once you've begun.a two parteror: what happens when there's no more plot to keep you going?
Relationships: Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69





	Nightingale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluelev](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelev/gifts).



> hello! this is a gift for my friend lev :))
> 
> the title is a reference to the HCA fairy-tale. a nightingale is given a place at court for its beautiful song.  
> when a mechanical bird is able to mimic it, it returns to the forest, unneeded.  
> it returns only once to sing the emperor a song as he dies, and the beautiful song returns him to health. :)
> 
> interpret that as you will

Ranboo was struck by the stature of the pianist. Hunched over his instrument, he looked miniature, like one of those child prodigies that entertained the rich and important. Upon seeing his face though, Ranboo was sure they were the same age. He had a heart-shaped face and dove-grey eyes. His hair was brown and unremarkable, but messy in a way that invoked running a hand through it. Ranboo's fingers twitched at his side and he passed his champagne flute to the other hand. 

They were in a drawing-room, secluded enough from the main party to feel intimate but still buzzing with guests. It was an anniversary party for two of Ranboo's dearest friends, full to the brim with people he'd never seen before. With more years under their belt than he had, they'd had no trouble finding an abundance of friends. Some he knew, like Fundy and Niki, but the vast majority were strangers. 

Phil and Techno's home, a restored set of ancient ruins, was done up grandly. Banners and streamers hung on the walls, draping over mounted swords and dented shields. He suspected it was Niki's work but it could easily have been Phil. He had a home-making streak. The guests were dressed finely, taking the occasion to wear all the rich trappings they never had the opportunity to wear. He felt a little out of place among them. Most were nearing the time when they had found their place in life. Something sure and secure settling on them like dust. He still felt compelled to search for more, to travel and seek resolution.

He was a sell-sword now, employing his cultivated skillset to new conflicts, ones that didn't require him to butcher familiar faces. It was better in that way, but it only made him feel more disconnected among the strangers, conscious that they might be his next patron or victim. Still, there were friends in the crowd, ones who bore scars like his. He hardly recognized Fundy out of his leather kit, though Niki was easily recognizable in the iridescent gown she wore. It was the flowers in her hair he supposed, always present. She was dancing, stepping in and out of the melody with a tall brunet. 

Ranboo heard the music slow and then stop as the pianist looked up. He pushed his hair off his forehead and Ranboo grinned, proven right. The man's fingers fluttered just above the keys, clearly itching to go into his next song but deferring. 

"Did you have a request?" He said. His voice was high and slightly harsh, like a crow. 

"No, no. I don't know anything about music." Ranboo sipped his champagne, feeling restless under his gaze. "Did they hire you or...?"

"No, I'm a guest." His hands had stilled, focus driven full-force to their conversation. "I'm Tubbo. Phil's sort of family. Techno, well..." He trailed off and shrugged.

"Rough start?" Ranboo offered. He knew Techno and all his rough edges, he wouldn't be surprised if more than half the guests had crossed swords with him.

"Mhm. And how do you know Techno and Phil?"

"I'm Ranboo. Techno sort of got me on my feet."

Tubbo's eyebrows shot up and he reached a hand out to shake. "No way! I've heard so much about you." Ranboo wasn't sure how much Tubbo could really know, or if he was just being personable. Everyone was tangled up together in some way, he found. It was part of why he left, part of why he wished he hadn't.

"How come I've never heard about you, then?" Ranboo asked. A pop of static made him flinch as they clasped hands. He blamed the deep black velvet of his suit. It was pretty and expensive but he didn't like the way it dragged whenever he moved. Training leathers, even armour, felt more natural.

"Ah, well. I keep to myself a lot these days." Tubbo's ring finger plonked onto a key and a soft note played. The rest of his fingers followed suit, a simple chord. "You don't know much music, but why don't you tell me if you like this one?"

Ranboo watched, fascinated, as Tubbo coaxed a song from the massive instrument. At the very ends of the keyboard, he had to stretch his arms, relying on long, careful fingers to tap out the archest notes. It was a beautiful song to his untrained ear, meandering and pretty. Not good for dancing though, he noted, watching as the crowd disintegrated into little conversations. Niki tossed her head back with laughter at something her new friend said and Ranboo smiled. He hadn't seen his friend so untethered in some time. Her foot was tapping in time to the song.

It was a song that reminded him a little of hymns in church Prime. Predictable in some ways but seeking. The song petered off and Ranboo looked back at Tubbo. His hair was back in his eyes and Ranboo wanted briefly to have the luxury of fixing it. "Well?" He said.

"I liked it," Ranboo replied. "Niki liked it too I think, and she's got better opinions on music than anyone I know."

"Friend of yours?" The question was broad but something in his tone was pointed. It made Ranboo's cheeks heat.

"Yeah. A good friend." Ranboo finished the last sip of his drink and set the glass down on the piano's top. "Can you play and talk at the same time?"

Tubbo played a note experimentally then turned his intense stare back on Ranboo. "I think so."

"Well, let's do that then. I won't rob the people of their entertainment."

When Tubbo played this time, his face flushed. Ranboo supposed it was with the effort of nailing the song and maintaining cohesion. He enjoyed the conflict between his pitchy voice and the soft music and half-wondered if he was any good at singing. His mouth rounded out over long vowels and struck on the consonants like a sword to a shied.

"So what do you do?" Tubbo asked, nearly tripping over his own hands. The effort was only apparent to a viewer, the dancers continued unbothered. 

"Kill people, mostly." Tubbo's mouth fell open with a soft sound of disbelief. Ranboo gestured to the scars marring his features. "You don't get these selling bread."

"No, well. Yes." 

"Techno and I met through a shared interest if you know what I'm saying." He could feel Tubbo staring now, taking in the scars with new eyes.

"Techno retired years ago," Tubbo said, flipping the sheet music he was not reading. 

"I guess I just haven't found anything worth settling down for." Ranboo shrugged. There were people he cared for of course, but they had their own lives, and he was satisfied with seeing them when their paths crossed. Surrounded now by a testament to love and its perseverance, an anniversary, he felt a little sea-sick. He waited until Tubbo tripped into the end of the song, flawless to everyone but him. "Would you be willing to abandon your post?"

"They sure as hell didn't pay me, so yes." Tubbo grinned. "I'd need a glass of that champagne though." 

"I think that can be arranged." 

Tubbo stood and straightened his trousers where they had creased. Upright, he was just as Ranboo had imagined. Tiny and honed, like a dagger. He quickly set a record to play, the slightly fuzzy tune pouring out of the phonograph and satisfying the guests enough for Tubbo to slip away mostly unnoticed. Ranboo startled a little when Tubbo looped their arms together. It was presumptuous but not unwelcome. 

"Off we go before Phil chains me to the piano bench." He chirped. "I'd prefer to get a drink in before I'm condemned to being a music box, please." 

**Author's Note:**

> another chapter to finish this off next :] please leave a comment if you liked it, or with a part that interested you. They make my writing better and keep me motivated.  
> the next chapter will probably be a lot more hurt/comfort and deal with tubbo's (sort of) canon past.  
> happy ending though, i promise you.


End file.
